The Christmas Party
by Glastea
Summary: A hypothesis of what really happened at the legendary Christmas party...


**The Christmas Party**

A/N- Oh yes. The Christmas party. An immortal piece of Grim Fandango, yet I've never found a reasonable explanation to why Manny got so drunk in the first place, and hence, I'm writing my own hypothesis. This is for Scorpicus, for their help with the piece in general, and to chivvy them up with their last chapter, as I need to read it (!), as I suppose many others need to.

Enjoy!

**0-0-0-0-0**

It was Christmas once again, and the DOD workforce had turned out in force to celebrate the occasion as lavishly as they could, taking into account the measly budget the boss had given them to have a good time.

The occasion was the usual set up, with many employees attempting to get into Don Copal's good books by listening to his terrible karaoke rendition of 'You took the soul right out of me,' one of his favorites. Finally, the song ended in littered applause and the loiterers' moved to the centre of attention- namely, a huddle around one of the tables in the far corner.

"Right," Eva said," do you both know the rules?"

Both players nodded, but she continued anyway.

"The soul who is unable to take a shot first will lose. I will be keeping tally to avoid discrepancies, as well as being bookkeeper. Will you all place your bets now please?"

The group of hecklers assembled around the contestants began to shout as bets were taken, odds calculated, and finally, the crowd fell silent as the mood tensened once more.

"Betting is closed, gentlemen, you may proceed if ready." Eva picked up her pen and notepad, and settled into her seat.

"Well, bottoms up, Cal," A cocky voice sounded, and two seconds later, a glass slammed onto the table. A couple of seconds later, another tumbler was standing the wrong way up, its content draining down the ribcage of one Manny Calavera.

He was determined to win- Domino Hurley was not going to steal his office, clients, and then find another way to humiliate him. Looking his opponent straight in the eye socket, he swallowed another glass of the amber liquid.

"What's the matter, Cal, think you're gonna lose?" Domino smirked as he flipped another glass, "because you'd be right…"

"Trust me, I'm not losing to you, compadre," Manny said calmly, swallowing another shot.

'Well, the betters don't seem to think so," Domino let another load of amber liquid trickle past his spine, and took a quick glance at the bookkeeping sheet. "They've got me pegged at 1 to 1, with all bets on me, whilst you, Manny, are at 213 to 1, with a grand total of , drum roll please, zero putting their money on you. That must feel bad."

"Why would that make me feel bad, Dom?" Manny inquired casually, pouring more whiskey through his jaw.

"Because, Cal, they think the same as me," Domino leant forward conspiratorially before continuing, "They think you're a lightweight." Amid the jeering and heckles the crowd provided, he cockily downed another shot, and cracked the glass as he smashed it onto the table.

"Let me tell you, Domino Hurley, I'm no lightweight." With a flourish, he gulped another shot, and flipped it onto the table. Let the game begin.

**53 Shots later…**

"Youu are soo done forr, Dommm," Manny slurred, swallowing more of the intoxicating substance, which he really didn't need. The alcohol had taken its full effect on him around half an hour beforehand, and although he didn't know it at the time, he was in for one huge hangover the next morning.

"You keep thinking that Cal," Domino said, drinking another shot. The liquor had had no effect on him, considering the 27 upturned glasses in front of him. It had made him slightly more arrogant than usual, but since he had an ego the size of the Land of the Dead anyway, it hardly showed.

By the time Manny had drunk another four shots, he was getting out of control, and his words were hardly intelligible. The onlookers were finding it hilarious, and Domino was laughing with them, as Eva rechecked her tally for the umpteenth time. However, 'Cal' had had enough of the laughter.

"Youuu think thiss iss funny, doo yaa?" Manny took another shot, let it drain through his skeleton, and stood up abruptly.

Domino remained seated as he drained another glass. "Manny, Manny, Manny. You see, if you were anything like me, you wouldn't have got yourself into this much of a state, and trust me; you could, if you thought about it an awful lot. However, you'd need some serious pizzazz to even get into my bracket, which you sadly lack."

"Thiiss iss because ooff my heighttt, isn'tt itt? Yoouu think becauuse I'mmm shorrt, youu can pick on meee, huh? Huh?" Although it was a very, very well known joke in the DOD that Manny had to wear stilts to even fit into his cape, they'd never thought they'd hear him mention it. The things alcohol did to souls…

"Lett's finiish thisss outsside!" Manny began to throw his fists around, and most of the crowd, including Eva, backed away slightly. Domino, however, stood up to the challenge.

"Well, if you feel you must lose…" The soul moved into a boxing stance, ready to strike, and show Manuel Calavera why he had a punch bag hanging from the ceiling of his office.

Although a minor scuffle did occur, no one got hurt. Mainly because after his second swing, Manny over span, turned several times, off balance, and passed out, landing skull first on the floor, which was lucky for all involved parties. Domino didn't want his suit to get creased.

Picking up another tumbler from the table, Domino drained it, and dropped the glass next to the fallen soul, where it smashed.

"And that, compadre, is why you never try and outdo me," he said, smirking, and then proceeded to leave the room.

It was at this point where Don Copal decided to intervene, finally leaving the karaoke set (and several souls who were scarred for death) alone.

"Break it up you guys, before I have to do it for you!"

No one even bothered to mention his lack of timing, plus the fact that neither of the involved parties was able to hear him.


End file.
